


On Heavy Feet

by Bunnysharks



Category: OneShot (Video Game)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Bad Humor, Character Study, Disassociation, F/F, Fluff and Angst, I'm positive I'm the only one who even likes this pairing but whatever lmao, Kip suffers from persistent depressive disorder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, headcanon heavy, possible eloping with a robot????
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-09-15 22:32:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9260903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnysharks/pseuds/Bunnysharks
Summary: Even Kip’s seemingly boundless optimism has a limit.The crushing inevitability of the world’s oncoming ruin may have finally begun to outweigh the perks of being a science prodigy, and all fingers will point to her when she fails to find the solution. Combine that sort of  pressure with her inability to push a certain robot out of her mind, and her impulses may just finally overtake her rationality.(Fic is on temporary hiatus until I get more ideas, sorry!)





	1. I stopped counting the hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “and the curtains are drawn  
> and the scenery is wrong  
> but you have nowhere else you can-” 
> 
> -VARSITY, C. 2002

The coffee pot had finally gone dry that day.

It had been the last of the grounds, too, as one of the more partially-awake scientists skulking about had scraped every last bit of it from the bottom of the tin onto the filter. There wasn’t even an eighth of the amount needed to brew an entire pot, and a sizable chunk of the remaining researchers would rather use their next break to get in a few minutes of sleep than embark on a crusade to the nearest store for a fresh supply.

Morale had sunk to an all-time low thanks to the unrelenting workload that had continued to pile on, whether it had been (another) robot malfunction or more of the city’s infrastructure collapsing throughout the Refuge. The coffee had been doing a sub-par effort in keeping the researchers awake from consecutive nights of maintenance and repairs, but now even that luxury had dissipated. That just might have the last nail in the coffin.

Kip wasn’t quite sure how long it’s been since she’d last made the polite request that someone fetch a new tin of coffee grounds. She had considered numerous times just to make the trek herself, but she knew too well that others would only try to cut the journey short in favor of keeping her in place. As head of management, it was no exaggeration to say that Kip, almost without fail, could singlehandedly diminish the workload before the end of the shift; precisely the reason that it was beneficial to keep her in the lab as long as necessary.

The minutes and hours had all muddled together in an excruciating blend of statistics and number-crunching, and neither of those things harbored results that were pleasing to see. It was when a sudden and shrill beeping had emanated from the nearby computer, that Kip was just now beginning to clear herself away from her lethargic daze.

“You’re kidding me,” The redhead muttered tiredly, pushing up her safety glasses and narrowing her eyes in disbelief at the monitor.

She inadvertently slams the clipboard atop her workbench, the unceremonious clatter filling the silent haze that lingered about the air. Hustling over to the soft glow of the computer terminal, she plopped herself down onto her office chair and removes the rubber gloves with less care than protocols would have permitted her, tapping away fervently on the keyboard with perceivable desperation.

“ A 3.97% drop in the phosphor concentrate-” she gulps, sifting through the documents.

That had been the lowest of the reductions they’ve had in weeks- and the most abrupt. Kip rubbed her eyes tentatively, hoping for once that the sleep deprivation had mangled her brain so badly that her senses had been completely jumbled. Perhaps she was just reading it wrong. Kip hoped to God that was it- never in her career had she ever hoped that her own findings would prove inaccurate.

A resounding, dismal sigh echoed throughout the lab as her thin fingers ran through her bangs. After a brief moment of brooding over such foreboding numbers, she absently jammed the enter key with a finger and sends off the analysis report over to the statistics ward. She half-expected a co-worker to come bursting through her door within the next minute or two, arms flailing and demanding a synopsis of the issue and as per the usual; ask her what she was going to do to fix everything.

The mere thought made her head pound.

Kip leaned back drearily into her chair, shoulders slumped and wine-red eyes gazing emptily up at the tall ceiling. The neon-pink fluorescent lights sizzled and crackled quietly overhead, her gaze lingering on the warm shade as though firmly transfixed by its enchanting glow. Resting her eyes for only a moment, Kip allowed for her mind to wander freely in that momentary period of respite she had provided for herself.

Things had only been becoming progressively worse as time marched on by.

This, Kip thought, was undeniable.

It was just that… nothing seemed to ever go right, ever since their sun had gone out.

This was, unfortunately, not exclusive to the Refuge alone. To call this thought process pessimism was a colossal understatement; the water had been constantly expanding in the Glens and pushing the birdfolk further and further inland, while pieces of the Barrens had outright broken off entirely. The name “Refuge” itself had even become highly ironic to almost every living citizen within its towering, crimson walls. While the overpopulation and the square infestations played a huge role in the recently increasing casualty rates, things within the once-flawless Refuge had quite frankly, gone to shit.

Be that as it may, the citizens refused to leave. They had nowhere else to go- the Glen residents needed every bit of land they had to themselves and their crops, and the Barrens sure as hell wasn’t referred to as “the Barrens” for no reason. Not to mention a good chunk of it was choked with noxious fumes- debris and robot scraps were littered across every dune and abandoned mineshaft. The clutter would have to be squared away- and there simply weren’t enough robots or time to spare for the project.

Fleeing there was hopelessly impractical for humanity. Even with all of the great strides they’ve taken with modern technology, they couldn’t produce the resources quickly enough to sustain life out there again. While it was most definitely an option the other scientists considered for some time, the idea to suggest this alternative to the open public was shot down almost immediately.

The idea behind the whole prospect was that essentially, a fraction of the residents would be “pushed” out with a fixed number of supplies out on their own, alongside a number of robots who would send reports of their status and (hopefully,) progress. Their hopes were that the people could efficiently thrive outside within the shifting blue sands, and perhaps humanity could pick itself back up.

In truth, Kip wasn’t entirely certain if the well-being of the chosen crowd was really taken into account in the first place. If the energy consumption lowered and the conditions had stabilized in the Refuge, people wouldn’t want to let them back inside in the case of a catastrophe. As the leading researcher, Kip could not in good conscience, make a choice that would put any number of people at risk.

Naturally she had been criticized for her choices in the past, and accused of dodging issues and prolonging certain things in favor of retaining and defending her illustrious title.

One that was beginning to lose it’s light.

Kip had scoured every option for salvation multiple times over. She had flipped through nearly every copy of Dr. Silverpoint’s books that she could get her hands on, leafed through scrapped notes and unfinished drafts in vain hopes that something, anything that would provide a hint for saving humanity and buying herself a ticket out of the steadily-creeping apocalypse. She’d considered every possibility, did all of the calculations and mapped out nearly every branching path.

There was just…. No hope. Kip had begun to lose sight of the point. She wasn’t entirely certain there even was one.

Is this what she amounted to, in the end? All of that recognition and praise- only to be just another disappointment forced to watch the world shut down right in front of her?

Her eyes weakly fluttered back open, half-lidded and glazed. Kip had found herself even more drained than she had been a few minutes ago, though that was more often than not the consequence of overthinking. Kip was notorious for that, though it was partly what had ensured that she was one step ahead of others.

A soft beeping had gradually entered her consciousness, and the redhead made the attempt to blink away the melancholic sleepiness in order to discern the source. Her phone chimed persistently to her alarm, signifying the start of what was supposed to be her lunch break.

Kip had not realized she had drawn her knees closer to her chest in her zone-out attempt, and unfurls herself them before slipping out of her seat and very sluggishly, removing the industrial apron and tossing aside the safety goggles onto the worktable.

Gently rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she mindlessly pats off any dust or unwanted residue from her turtleneck and strides out onto the main floor, breathing inwards deeply and playing it off as though she hadn’t spent the last hour drowning herself in morbid thoughts.

“Oh, Miss K-Kip,” she heard one of the new lab girls stutter from behind a powered-off robot, “Where are you headed?”

The head researcher smiled as reassuringly as she could, pondering to herself if taking a break was no longer seen as a feasible solution.

“Just headed over to the cafe for my lunch break,” she chirps amiably, “I won’t be too long. I’m usually back about 15 minutes early.”

That poor girl looked as though she would drop at any moment. Given the near-comatose conditions of some of the other overworked scientists, their breaks have been long since overdue. She wished she could just screw it all and send the poor employees home, not even this was worth the ungodly hours they were forced to stay up.

“You can go too if you want,” Kip suggests, gauging the condition of the robot. Even from where she stood, she knew the thing was too far gone for repairs to even be worth the time. “I can handle this one in my office when I get back. I know the shortcuts to reprogramming.”

The employee flushed. “Oh, i-it’s fine! Don’t worry about it, I wanna try and finish this one up. I think I got the hang of it, actually! I can probably get him up and running by tomorrow!” she hums sweetly, Kip laughing softly at her enthusiasm. She didn’t have the audacity to ruin her cheer.

“Alright. Well, don’t overwork yourself, okay?” Kip calls out, eyeing her with doting concern. “Please try to take it easy!” she yips down the corridor as she continues the walk outside, where the salty tang of the sea had met with the industrial carnage of cold steel.

The heels of her boots clacked against the pavement, and Kip made the attempt to push out her own thoughts with possible ideas for what to fill the void that clawed at the insides of her stomach.

Very briefly the thought of pancakes crosses her mind, and she finds herself unable to tear herself away from the concept of buttermilk and maple syrup.

 

With an extra spring in her step, she begins sauntering herself over to the cafe up on the catwalks.

Hmm… Pancakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!
> 
> This is actually my first time ever posting a fic, so I do apologize if it's sort of... obvious that I'm not a very good writer. I'm very rusty unfortunately, and the only experience I've had in writing was with past roleplaying- which I haven't actually done in quite some time now. That said, I will try to improve to the best of my abilities!
> 
> As mentioned in the tags, this story is going to be rather headcanon heavy based off things I have surmised with friends, hence the edgy "Kip suffers from depression" tag since I can recognize in her some traits of a high-functioning depression victim- but I realize that this might just be an over-analysis and understand if others cannot envision the same thing.
> 
> Please let me know if I make any spelling or grammatical errors! Feedback is immensely appreciated!
> 
> That said, I hope you can bear with me on this TRAIN WRECK I'VE STARTED OH GOD HELP ME


	2. The same old city walls

The crimson city was alive and clamored in it’s usual, vibrant tempo.

Various street vendors and their culinary curiosities lined themselves down the streets, posted adamantly besides the towering rows of office building and various apartment complexes. The acrid scent of burnt sugar wafted from further down the block, soon overcome by the stench of breaded fish that assailed Kip’s nostrils with equal potency. She wrinkles her nose at the sharpness of the odor, but pinches back the nausea to the best of her abilities and gives a friendly wave over at the direction of the proprietors.  

The factory had been built atop a steel platform down by the docks, right where the liquid phosphor had lapped gently against the harbor walls. The street vendors were located at such a conveniently close walking distance from her workplace that it was common for the scientists and herself to grab a bite for their lunch breaks. While both filling and extraordinarily cheap, the flavor often lost it’s magic quickly and within days, they’d have brainstormed for an alternative place for their meal.

Even as Kip’s stomach growled voraciously, she was well aware that she would have to pick up the pace if she didn’t want to risk losing her appetite to the scent of their questionably baked goods. One typically had lower standards when there was less time to spare, but Kip seemed to operate in the reverse this particular day.

Boots scuffling against the pavement, she deduced the back alleys would be the fastest shortcut to the only place the scientist was aware that served pancakes on the menu.

Said cafe was quite a ways away, in truth. It had been located up on the catwalks further down into sector 8, the residential district on the other side of town more nobly eminent for being where the library had proudly stood. It had been quite some time since Kip had last dropped in to browse the shelves, but that sort of time was a luxury she no longer held within her grasp. Her library card had remained unused in her wallet for God-knows-how-long, and she had debated numerous times on whether or not just to leave it at home since it no longer saw any use, but she would only wind up forgetting that, too.  


The researcher was unwittingly reminded of the time restriction she had rashly imposed onto herself, and almost immediately she begins to regret sharing to the new employee about her regularly early returns from her lunch breaks.

Kip spends a brief moment processing the time estimate in her head. She wasn’t exactly a fast eater, and including the distance it takes to walk to and back as well as the irritatingly long elevator rides(that was one of few things she hated most about the Refuge- how long those things took because everyone built the structures too damn high,) she would most definitely exceed the appropriate time limit for her lunch break.

Her steps become more increasingly brisk as the thought gnaws on the back of her mind.

She turns the many corners of the pink brick walls,  maneuvering herself through the dimly-lit alleyways and stepping around  the lazily-flung garbage bags that littered the ground. The bins had been overstuffed and crammed full of trash that had clearly been left to rot for at least several weeks- judging by putrid wave of stench that had slammed into Kip with the same velocity  as a crowbar to the face.

“Oh, that’s gross,” she complains solely to herself, unable to recall if the buildup had always been there of if she was simply nose-blind to it the last time she was headed to work.

Unwilling to spend too long navigating herself through the labyrinth of filth and peeling phosphor-conservation posters, Kip continued to hustle on by in favor of ensuring her clothes don’t begin to catch the smell.

It was when she had passed upon a branching alleyway that her progress was postponed yet a second time, where a tantalizing wave of heat wafted pleasantly throughout the musty walls. Kip speedily changed her on mind just how tired she was. Her conscious was very narrowly hanging on by a thread before she had even departed, and now she was almost certain she could fall asleep right where she stood if she didn’t resist the allure of the siren’s call into the soft glow.

_Kelvin’s alley._

Kip could practically envision the mountain of cats that curled up besides his feet, purring up a storm and snoozing their days away while soaking up the endless heat that radiated from the head of that tall, imposing robot. She would stop by and pet them when she had the time to spare, their fur felt luxurious and soft beneath her fingers as they would nuzzle up to her, craving more affection.

The idea of wandering over to the cat pile and treating herself to a quick nap was, quite frankly, tempting her into damnation. Kip was not exactly in the proper condition to promise herself a “quick” nap, and was more than positive she’d sleep through the entire day cycle if she had foolishly allowed for herself to succumb to the clutches of sleep.

It didn’t help very much that she knew Kelvin wouldn’t have even remotely minded if she had done so, either. She could have just staggered on in with the grace of a drunken sailor and snuggle up beneath his arm, and the cats would just occupy any square inch besides the robot that wasn’t already taken.

Kip was grateful that Kelvin was a more kinder sort of robot than his other, more rectangular brethren.

...Then again, she surmised that it was probably just built into his code.

She preferred such a facet over the automated reticence of the usual bunch, but that wasn’t to say that didn’t enjoy their presence, either. Their clunkiness and gentle, spirited emphasis on their work was charming in it’s own right. There was a certain type of altruism about the robots, and in most of the the things they had done. While this was a likely byproduct of programming for the sake of human convenience, it was something Kip had learned to appreciate.

While she had not personally created him, she had learned through walks to and from her workplace that he had spent most, if not all of his days in the back alleys. This was presumably because most of the poorer and less fortunate had taken to dwelling in this particular region- Kelvin would keep anyone warm without question.

Something about the concept struck her as romantic.

It would have been so pleasant, like dozing off next to the fireplace, wrapped snugly in a fuzzy blanket and dreaming of days where the sun had once blessed the decaying land they all crawled themselves through.

 _Soon_ , she insisted. _Soon._

With immense reluctance,  Kip eventually pries herself away from the call of the flickering flames as the creeping cold lingers almost painfully against her skin. With a sudden and violent shudder, she rounds the corner back out onto the bustling streets and outwards from the magenta maze.

The bustling hum of the city streets soon return to earshot as she walks, paying little mind to the indiscernible chatter that fluttered about the atmosphere of the Refuge. The ruby glow of the city had become straining to her eyes, and Kip was uncertain whether that’s due to the incessant drowsiness or that the landscape was beginning to drive her mad.

With forced optimism, she blames the former and makes a beeline for the elevator on the central building, just a little further down the block.

There was an abrupt, hurried clang when the redhead had approached the elevator, causing her to jump slightly. A single arm had protruded from between the elevator doors, clamped painfully as the hand roughly bats the doors as if to tell the sensors to cease crushing him. Kip takes a tentative step back, unsure if she was somehow responsible for triggering the near-dismemberment of this poor fellow.

She hadn't even noticed the man was trying to hold the doors open for her.

Very slowly the doors open themselves once more, giving way to the man who had rather unthinkingly thrown himself in between two pieces of heavy steel. The familiar sight of a patchwork hat and tattered coat graced her field of view, and the jarring awkwardness of the entire situation had struck Kip and essentially, left her to stand rigidly in place as though she had anticipated for something else to happen further.

The lamplighter’s eyes dart to and fro nervously, their gaze finally landing on her in a fervent mix of bewilderment and expectancy.

“You, uh…” he begins, his voice a pleasing tenor in contrast his gruff, worn-down appearance.

“ _You gonna get in, or...?”_ the man tries again.

“...O-Oh, I’m so sorry-” she yelps, scuttling inside the elevator quickly as she squeezes herself through.

“You didn’t need to wait for me,” she starts, apprehensively fidgeting with her messy hair bun. “Sorry if I made you do that. I didn’t see you, I would have hurried if I did,” she chuckles nervously out of reflex, as if to elude the two from her thoughtlessness.

“Eh. Don’t worry about it, I’ve done it before,” the lamplighter sighs wearily, adjusting his cap. His voice was unusually devoid of the annoyance Kip would have expected from anyone else, but she decided not to interpret this as an invitation for chatter.

The awkward silence had made it abundantly clear to Kip that the towers were indeed built just a little too high for her comfort. While the ride was not excruciating to bear, the elevator music had done very little to fill the silent gap that hung blithely between them. The two avoided looking at each other, if they could help it, neither person willing to initiate a conversation that could end up nowhere- or someplace entirely too weird.

The researcher would always seem him scampering about town from one location to the next- she can’t recall a single time in which he’d stay in one place for more than a few minutes before he took off again. She supposed his job had pushed and pulled him around more than he’d like, that kind of profession had seemed draining to Kip in more ways than one. She actually held quite a lot of respect for the man, bounding around as he did with such a ceaseless display of stamina.

While the disquieting stillness resumed, the two had locked eyes out of sheer chance or by some bizarre sensation of beckoning, before hastily tearing away as though what they’d just done was taboo.

Kip could not help but take note, however, of the weary sort of wisdom contained within those wine-red eyes of his. Within reflected a fatigued glimmer that had lingered tenaciously with every little thing he did, an imperceptible burden weighing him down into exhaustion. She empathized all too well, and briefly contemplated whether or not it would have been an considered prying if she tried nudging for a conversation into that particular region.

She ultimately decides it may not be the best decision.

The phosphor jars strapped to his waist clinked softly as the elevator jolts to a halt, the door gradually opening itself onto the upper floor. Kip hastily reminded herself that she needed to watch very closely where she stepped, the railings were a tad too brittle and the squares had continued their merciless onslaught in tearing apart the entire city, piece by piece.

The lamplighter clears his throat, eyes drawn to the floor in an almost childish obstinacy.

“I’ll, uh, see you around, then.” he mutters so quickly that Kip could barely make out what it was he had said in the first place, motioning to her with a curt nod of his head.

In a flash of faded lilac, he had turned himself out of the elevator and disappeared down one of the catwalks, his silhouette devoured quickly by the vibrant radiance of the Refuge and it’s many flickering lights. He must have been in a rush, she thought.

 _Those eyes,_ she mused somberly to herself, _seemed so tired._

 _Those eyes,_ the thought remained in his mind as his boots scuffled the thin platform, _looked so downcast._

Into the never-ending echoes of the darkened world and it’s perpetual haze, the two walked deeper into the faux-opulence of the Refuge, becoming lost in the man-made splendor that had already begun to crumble at their feet.

 _They’re a little like mine,_ the two thought in silence.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted Plight to appear at some point, since the story does begin in the Refuge. ;w;
> 
> A friend of mine has a headcanon that he has a British accent, but I deduced I couldn't portray him accurately enough as such so I... refrained from doing it, in the end.
> 
> He's charming in his own clumsy way though, isn't he? :U


	3. Breakfast (for dinner) at Ling's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Ling is referred to as "mister" in the beta/2014 version of oneshot. I actually didn't know about their true identity 'till I played that!
> 
> EDIT: Various chunks of the chapter have been rewritten and cleaned up! I wrote this at 5 in the morning and it was awful, hopefully it's less terrible now??

She’d never seen the cafe so devoid of activity as it had been in that evening.

It had been near-desolate, the tables all spotless and unmarred by the usual coffee stains or ketchup smears that splattered like Rorschach patterns by the careless patrons. The typical, indistinct chatter had been absent from the scene, leaving nothing but the sound of a nearby running sink and the unceremonious clatter of dishes to fill the silence that blanketed the cafe.

The usual barista on shift had stood in his position behind the counter, aggressively scrubbing away at a plate with a particularly determined stain that refused to be eradicated from this plane of existence. The countertop was unblemished similarly to the rest of the interior, the pink sheen of the overhead lights reflecting off the surface in a hypnotic sea of neon.

Kip slid quietly into a bar stool and drummed her rose-colored nails atop the counter, wordlessly observing how chipped the polish had become beneath her negligent watch. Sleepless nights at work had eradicated virtually all of Kip’s chances of performing self-care, so she wasn’t particularly disheartened at the revelation. 

“How’re you doing, Ling?” Kip strung as much spirit as she could possibly muster into her voice, though her heavy eyelids would only betray the attempt.

“Huh-” the worker spun rapidly to face the source of the voice, tiny clusters of foam and soap bubbles spiraling into the air before fluttering gently downwards. “Oh, Kip! Didn’t think I’d be seeing you today,” he plopped the stubborn plate down into the depths of the dishwater, wiping off his sudsy hands onto the apron.

“You’re one of the few customers I’ve had all day! I didn’t expect to really… see anyone else pop in before I closed up shop.” he piped up, shooting a cursory glance at the wall clock. “It's been really quiet today. Not that I mind, since I’m paid by the hour regardless of the customer volume,” he chuckled lightly, his smile infectious as Kip finds herself steadily blossoming into that same, ditzy grin.

“Sounds like it must have been an easygoing day,” she tried retracting the jealousy from her voice, staring up and out into the window that displayed the sprawling, carmine cityscape that pulsed in tune with the steady rhythm of the world’s decay.

Kip didn’t usually feel _that_  degree of morbidity very often.

Shoving her thoughts elsewhere only resulted in them flooding her en masse at the most unforeseen moment, but it wasn’t as though there were any better alternatives made available to her.

It was fine, though. She was just tired- she wouldn't be having such an intimidating stream of thought had she gotten proper sleep. In the end, that's what it all came down to.

_Right?_

If Ling had taken note of the subtle shift in her demeanor, he had exhibited no signs or intent of pressing for the sake of satiating his curiosity.

“Anything I can get started for you?” the young waiter inquired with a deliberate, jovial tenderness in his voice.

There was a delayed silence before Kip had turned over an answer, scouring her brain for whatever she had settled for earlier before she set off from the factory. She had sort of forgotten, despite the intensity of the craving.

“Do you think you can make me some… pancakes, actually?” she implored, a childish pout forming on the coral pink of her lips. “I started craving them badly earlier, and I don’t really know why. It wouldn’t leave my mind the entire walk here,” Kip fidgeted with the sleeves of her sweater as she spoke, tugging mindlessly at a few stray strings.

“Hah, I feel that. Just gimme a few minutes and I’ll whip some up for you,” he chuckled with a breathtaking warmth, aptly swishing around the small kitchen. The enticing aroma of buttermilk swirled and cloaked the room within mere minutes in a veil of sweetness, further encouraging the unruliness of Kip’s appetite.

The cafe was noticeably smaller without the usual masses loitering about to fill both the space and the silence, weaving a more somber atmosphere in comparison to the cheeriness of the everyday clamoring. Still, Ling's animated tempo did well in brightening the lonely atmosphere. 

Kip gradually retreated downwards into her folded arms, eyes half-lidded and gazing near-wistfully towards the huge windows and the framed glitziness of the crimson skyscrapers. The sizzling of pancake batter against the frying pan had seemed almost distant as she cradled her head in her arms, the sound muffled just low enough to provide the redhead with transitory solace.

Her eyelids had teased themselves shut, but a dull and tenacious aching had tugged Kip relentlessly back into the realm of consciousness as though tearing her away from the prospect of rest. The back of her head thrummed softly, maddeningly; some unseen cadence deterring all hopes of catching a few minutes of sleep. Maybe this is what people had meant when they said one was too tired to sleep- it felt absolutely insufferable. 

Kip doesn't even know how long it had been since she'd last gotten sleep. She knows for a fact that she exceeded the 24-hour mark quite some time ago, but the exact number was lost on her. Not that she was in any condition to recall, anyways.

“...Are you tired?” Ling’s voice reached her ears as though coming from the opposite end of the room.

“Mm-hm,” the drowsy scientist hummed faintly, sluggishly lifting her head back up to face the employee with a dazed, albeit amiable, expression. “What gave it away?” she mocked lightly with a lop-sided grin, earning her a concerned frown from the chef.

“You too, huh?” They sighed, distraught.

“...Hm?” Kip slow-blinked.

“You and that tall lamplighter guy both. The two of you are the only ones to come in today that look absolutely dead on your feet,” they continued, sliding the platter of pancakes her way. She had never noticed it had been prepared in the first place.

The generous stack of pancakes were unmatched in fluffiness, tantalizing from almost every visible angle. The syrup cascaded languidly in honey-gold waterfalls down the sides, a generous dollop of butter perched in solitude atop the stack though the confection were it’s throne.

They were the sexiest pancakes Kip had ever laid eyes on.

She snatched the closest pair of silverware, disturbing the cutlery from their slumber to act as instruments to Kip’s late-night decadence. It took every ounce of self-control condensed into her impatient frame from devouring the platter whole like some depraved savage, fork clicking against the back of her teeth as she listened obediently to Ling who was most likely, bored out of his mind with not much work to distract him.

“While I guess he just works on general maintenance stuff, your job is kind of… how should I phrase it,” he folded his arms, tapping a finger against his chin. “I feel like it weighs a lot more on your shoulders than it should, you know? Scientist stuff seems a little too complex for me.” he sulked at this, as though he had taken it upon himself to dwell within the concept of whatever burden may have been smothering her. He was an astute observer; Kip had to at least give him that. 

The redhead remained mostly silent as she ate, save for the occasional chewing and soft clanking of cutlery against her plate. Her vermilion orbs had been fixated elsewhere in the room, as though she sought a distraction from the reminder that was her profession.

“I saw him on the way up here,” Kip readily took the opportune moment to dodge the subject of her work, “The poor guy looked tired out of his mind, too. I don’t run into him much, actually, since I don’t leave my workplace very often. I guess that’s probably why.”

Ling shifted tasks, preoccupying himself with scrubbing the batter from off the well-used frying pan. “Yeah! I can’t say I really speak much to him, despite how often he stops by. Most of the time, he just drinks an entire pot of coffee and… takes off. He didn’t used to have such a daunting workload, but I guess things just came up? I don’t think it’s really worth the amount of stress it must be causing.” His voice was tinged with sympathy.

“I guess since we had to recently concentrate the phosphor even more for it to be of any use, we wound up adding a lot of deliveries onto his list. I feel bad, since technically I'm... responsible for that. B-But... he got off on this floor,” she added unthinkingly, taking another bite of her pancakes. “Kind of a coincidence. Does he live around here?” she inquired curiously, swiping her tongue against the corner of her mouth where the syrup eluded her.

“I don’t think so,” Ling chirped, “But I wondered the same thing too, since he comes by so often. The last time he was here, he mentioned that a friend of his lived on this floor, somewhere on the west wing of the apartments. At first, I just sort of assumed the same person just needed constant repairs.” he shrugged, dismissing the thought. "Good to know the guy has someone looking out for him, though."

“Is that so? I'm relieved to hear he's being treated well,” Kip purred, pondering just who this mystery person may have been. On almost all accounts, the lamplighter seemed too busy a man to concern himself with anything but his work alone. She supposed it was natural and healthy for him to have relations with others, and perhaps it may have a been a bit too insensitive of her to off-handedly assume he was essentially just a lonely man with nothing to do but work, eat, and sleep.

_Not everyone was like her._

 

"How's, uh, work at the factory going for you? Been hearing stuff here and there on the news," his tone was mild, eyes calmly turned to scientist. "That phone tower incident gave me a real scare, but I'm relieved that you guys managed to set up a backup signal!" 

The mention of work had flipped a lever of sorts, Kip's focus on the conversation zoning in and out at such erratic intervals that she almost didn't hear the full question. "Mm? Oh-" she gulped, lips pursed into a thin line. "It's... well, it's going, definitely," she began, keeping her tone even. "Just a few more things that need adjusting, and things should be back to normal." she sincerely hoped that the answer had not sounded as evasive to Ling as it did to herself, but his face grew alight at her response.

"That's great to hear, you guys are always doing your best for the rest of us. Hah, wish I could do something aside from stand here and flip pancakes all day. Ah well, it's not a bad job. Most of the customers are really nice," he began rambling a little to himself, his train of thought dwindling as he notes Kip's thousand-yard stare into the empty plate. 

The concept of returning to the factory had suddenly smote her with wicked force- and Kip had become both repelled and obscenely afraid of having to make the drawling trek all the way across the Refuge, only to slave away in front of a computer terminal and re-code a year’s supply of inoperational robots for God-knew-how-much-longer. 

That was all that she had done for weeks on end now, following the merciless string of square-particle incidents. Little things in the Refuge would often go wrong, scattered here and there across sectors that most of the scientists could not maintain on high alert with pertinence. The issue with the innumerable little things going constantly wrong, fascinatingly enough, was that they become lethal if neglected for prolonged periods of time.

They progressively pile up, incidents both unreported and unresolved attributing to the irreparable damages that the factory didn’t have the manpower necessary to fix. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. As far as Kip was concerned, the incidents only seemed to be repeating ad infinitum.

“Handling all of the work can a little stressful, sometimes,” Kip assured with deceptive enthusiasm, “But I think all jobs are like that, too. No matter where you go, nothing is without hardships. It’s just a part of life, honestly,” she sighed a tad shakily, watchfully avoiding eye contact. "There's just... there's no avoiding it," she murmured sullenly, interlocking her fingers together.

The room had abruptly become awash with a pensive gloom.

Ling nodded silently in assurance, gazing down upon the woman with a maternal glint in his eyes. “Ain’t that the truth,” he chuckled good-naturedly, though the warmth had faded a little from his sprightly facet. "...Can I get you some coffee, maybe? It might perk you up a bit, especially if you need to be back soon," he craned his neck over to get a good look at the coffee machine, noting it's emptiness. "It's only a few minutes for a fresh pot."

Oh my God. WHY didn't she just order that with the pancakes in the first place?

_Stupid, stupid. She was running out of time._

"Thanks, but... it's fine. I need to get going, actually. I think I'm going to be late unless I hustle," she chuckled a tad pitifully, "How much do I owe you?"

Ling paused, trying to crunch the numbers in his head. “...Don't worry about it. It's on the house tonight," he insisted solemnly, "Just watch yourself on the way back, I wouldn't want you running headfirst into one of those squares! They pop by the skywalks every now and again, it's getting pretty bad."

“W-Wait, are you sure? I don't really want you to get in trouble because of me," she gave Ling a look, but he only waved it off.

"Positive. You take care of yourself, alright? The life of a workaholic really doesn’t suit you, Kip.”

She laughed affably in response, but could not find it in herself to dignify his well-meaning words with anything of buoyant substance.

"You too," she chimed back melodiously before excusing herself.

Kip wished she could have been better company to him.

Then again, Kip wished for a lot of things, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm... really sorry this chapter was boring or lackluster ;;; I've been having such a bad writer's block (hence why I didn't update this one for a month lmao) but I'm hoping I can get back into the groove of it soon! The next chapter is already underway so shouldn't take as long...!!
> 
> ...In case you weren't aware, the "friend" Plight has is the reader from the other fic. ;U


	4. Her Hair as Red as Spring Cherries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "One of the symptoms of an approaching nervous breakdown is the belief that one's work is terribly important."
> 
> -"Conquest of Happiness" by Bertrand Russell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick warning: Kip has a disassociation episode in this chapter, so you'll likely want to skip, skim, or disregard a chunk of this chapter if you're not okay with that kind of thing!!

A sudden queasiness had become prevalent as Kip trudged her way across the skywalks, the reeling height of her present location only further amplifying the sensation. She had never paid the upper floors enough of a visit to become adjusted to the intimidating altitude of the complexes, and had to give some credit over to the other residents who could pull it off. 

Truthfully, she felt sick to her stomach.

Her boots thunked solidly against the grated metal floors as she tottered from side to side, discovering that maintaining her balance had suddenly become a laborious feat. She grasped the railing for support, but had to refrain from leaning off the edge in fear that the metal beams would  give out from her weight. Nobody could honestly trust the infrastructure of the Refuge much these days- most of the reported casualties in the lab were because of the construction's faultiness leading to a civilian’s untimely death. Kip wondered where all of the sturdy materials and funds had gone- probably funneled elsewhere.

_ Certainly not towards her factory. _

Kip didn’t know what time it was. The only reason she doesn’t bother to check is because she doesn’t trust herself to keep a steady hand in taking out her phone. Knowing herself, she’d probably just fumble and drop it several hundred feet below- and there goes all of her contacts and unrecorded research data. Those were several months spent of her life Kip was never going to get back.  _ Years, even.  _

She would have assumed a good meal would have sufficed in mitigating the ruthlessness of her stress, but such hopes quickly became dashed. It was dismal, this feeling. Kip found herself incapable of shaking loose the shrapnels of lethargy that embedded themselves into her, painfully aware that she was only delaying her return to the factory. The researcher had hardly put a dent in the ever-piling workload stacked against her, but she couldn’t afford to slow her momentum any further than she already had. 

_ Jeez, get it together-  _ she mentally chides herself and the extrinsic nature of her weakness, gathering the motivation to lumber over towards the public bathrooms whilst being herded by the corresponding neon signs that hovered luminously in the air. She’d splash some water on her face- a quick breather ought to do. 

Heavy steps soon transcended into a listless foxtrot into the western wing of the apartments, beams of light streaming forth from outside the glass where the view of the Refuge seemed to swim and condense.

The endearing sound of a young girl’s laughter, careless and breezy; could be heard echoing down the corridor from one of the many doors, the cold floor beneath illuminated by the jubilous presence that bloomed just on the other side. The faint chirps of a robot’s beeps and boops exuded from the adjacent door, followed by the rich, earthy scent of coffee from the room across. 

The apartment floor was awash with the tumultuous sounds of life- something that had mollified Kip’s uneasy heart. She hadn’t expected the apartments to be so noisy at this time of night, not that she had any qualms about it. She found it tremendously difficult to think straight with how anxious just thinking about her work had made her, but the muted sounds of the residents had done a fair job at putting her at ease. 

Almost as if to turn the tide, however, Kip  inadvertently kicked some unseen object just as she turned the corner into the row of bathroom stalls , whips of panic seizing her in place as she attempted to identify whatever it was she had just launched across the room at Mach 7. A pair of scissors had been sent spinning across the tiled floors before finally colliding with the wall, it’s trajectory bouncing it to the far left of the restroom beside a drain. 

Well, that definitely threw her off. Kip pauses to debate on just why someone would have just left some scissors on the ground of a public restroom. Clumsiness? Folly?  _ Boredom? _ Who knew.

The bathroom lights were dimmed down just low enough to conjure an equilibrium where Kip could both see where she was going decently enough and stay unburdened by their dull sheen.  Still, the darkness of the room was moderately disconcerting and made it just a tad bit difficult for her to navigate through, even though the layout was as laughably simple as stalls on the left, and sinks to the right. Kip speculated that it was possible that no lights were installed at all, or that the phosphor hadn’t even been properly replaced. 

That could have been a potential reason the lamplighter had stopped on this floor, too- she remembered maintenance specifically was what he was regularly tasked with.

Looks like she wasn’t the only one who couldn’t catch a break.

It had taken her a moment to decipher the small lump nestled in the far left corner atop the sinks as a potted plant, already wilting from the insufficiency of light in the room. She couldn’t guess whose idea it had been to leave the poor thing there. Aside from that and the solitary pair of scissors on the ground, the bathroom was lacking in any other notable features aside from a  nearby soap dispenser that seemed to be almost empty.

Her footsteps reverberated hollowly throughout the room as she wearily approached one of the sinks, narrowing her gaze contemptuously at the murky reflection that went toe-to-toe with her. She exhaled deeply before squeezing  her eyes shut, running a hand through her magenta locks as her fingers ghosted themselves above the hairclip that kept her trademark messy bun in place.

Frail digits unlatch the clip and allow for her hair to spill down in her shoulders in streams of velvet, flowing down to her waist as a few fiery strands clung obstinately to the sides of her cheeks. 

God, it had felt so greasy. Kip was nauseated with herself for allowing her body to slip into such an unacceptable condition of disrepair. She hadn’t showered in days, Kip didn’t have the chance to take proper care of herself in light of the recent events that sent the Refuge hurdling towards the cataclysm she knew damn well was on it’s way. 

_ 6 months minimum _ , the reports declared. 

They could try and concentrate the phosphor all they wanted, but they could only squeeze so much results from what remained. Any components that contained traces of previous light from the sun were rapidly growing scarce- and no alternatives existed that could be used to fuel the vibrant, scarlet city. 

They were running out of resources.

_ They were running out of time.  _

Kip exhaled a shaky breath, luring herself away from her self-deprecatory mindset, and opened her eyes very slowly. Her eyelids rose like the coming dawn and staring eye to eye with two pools of crimson, slated like pulsing walls of red-

-And she instantly froze, throat running dry and her veins chilled to absolute zero at the spectacle presented in the mirror. 

_ Her. It was her _ . 

_ Oh dear God, it was her. _

Her eyes swirled like scarlet pools, bambi eyes wide like the moon and silken hair as vibrant and red as the succulence of spring cherries. Her eyes, unwavering and glassy like the roiling surface of the sea, sunk deeper than the farthest depths of the ocean and it’s eternal promise of marine blue,

_ Blue. There was so much blue, where they had abandoned her. _

No, they didn’t like to call it that. 

_ “We’re doing the Refuge a service,”  _ they had doggedly insisted, but Kip couldn’t hear them over the sound of machinery and drilling off in the distance, just beyond the lookout point where the scientists had crammed boxes full of tools and broken equipment that would never see use in the coming years.

Kip felt as though she were drowning, saltwater welling up in her lungs and pressing indignantly from the insides of her fragile form, threatening to burst and scatter her into a thousand pieces.

_ Silver. Silver.  _

The name circled and thrummed in boundless waves, a choir of fury howling ephemerally in the back of her head as she wrenched herself away from the sink in shock. The scientist staggered backwards and scrabbled  herself against the wall, hands trembling with her long hair pooled in intricate curls at her sides. Her breathing grew strained and ragged, the cold tiles sending a sickening chill through her body as a bead of sweat dripped down her cheek.

_ Calm down. That wasn’t her- _ she recited as though it were a sacred mantra, over and over in her head as though a broken record. Until it would sink in. 

The effects of sleep-deprivation had reached it’s crescendo, her ears ringing unbearably with the sound of a voice so parallel to her own in pitch that her reminiscence had begun to haunt her relentlessly and without mercy. 

_ Disorientation on the first day,  _ a remote voice had enumerated somewhere in the confines of her brain, as though it were reciting a passage straight from a book. 

_ Stop it, you need to stop. Come on, this isn’t like you.  _ The analytic researcher in her had taken the initiative, grabbing ahold of the reins and re-evaluating the situation in correspondence to her reaction. 

The calculating, cunning, high-school Valedictorian Kip hummed complacently somewhere in her head.  _ “It’s all in your head,”  _ she sung, hoping to delude her.

The real Kip, broken, crumpled and dazed on the cracked azure of the restroom tiles, could not comprehend.

_ Manic episodes can kick in after the second day, accompanied by minor hallucinations. Third and beyond, brain function becomes impaired and involuntary eye movement can be witnessed. Bodily functions will cease after the fifth day, in which- _

A volatile shiver slices cleanly through her neurotic train of thought,  mind deluged with the memories of the robot she had crafted with her own two hands those many years ago, when the high of her achievements bellowed thunderously and with turbulent glee.

Kip thinks to herself that she had a particularly good run.

She had to applaud her own audacity to last this long with the remorse hanging limply over her head, playing the role of a perfect scientist without any failures to express to her peers. 

_...No, no. _

To refer to Silver as a failure was blasphemous. It was disrespect of the highest possible order- the epitome of callousness ironic to the scientist who had forced her into the world. 

She never asked to be here. She never asked to be made the way she was- manufactured by a self-styled scientific genius who would have trampled on the hearts of others as the world fell to their knees at her supreme accomplishments. 

_ Hah. _

_ What a fucking joke. _

_ You did this to her. Don’t act like you forgot. _

_ You know damn well what you did. _

Kip’s breathing grew uneven; her skin felt too tight and it felt as though her chest had been ripped open and stuffed to the brim with cotton, overflowing and bursting gruesomely at the seams. She tucks in her legs and narrowly manages to avoid collapsing face-first onto the floor, ashen fingers twitching as they sluggishly felt their way across the bathroom wall. 

Fortuitously she summons the strength to lift her head, doe eyes zeroing in upon the sight of the metal scissors with untamed fanaticism. Impulsivity crackled at her fingertips and spurred her forward in jerky, haggard motions. Kip doesn’t have enough faith in her legs to carry her weight such a moment of calamitous weakness, when she felt as though she were on the precipice of death.

Maybe she was just dreaming. Maybe none of this was actually happening, and it was just some terrible nightmare. Perhaps she was fast asleep at her office desk already, the entire panorama naught but a figment of her imagination. 

But it felt so,  _ so _ real, and Kip profoundly wished that it had not. 

Crawling her way across the bathroom floor, she fumbled with the inside ring of the scissors as the coolness of the carbon steel felt almost soothing to the touch, thumb pressed gently against the tool as her other hand slid over to her arm, fingers grasping and convulsing in a vain endeavor to keep her arm still.

She just couldn’t stop shaking. 

Her body had felt cold, all of a sudden. Like pinpricks of frost jabbing against her bare skin, flowering up her arms and twisting down her spine before spreading like winding ivy. 

Her bangs had swept themselves in front of her eyes, sticking to her from the sweat as beads of perspiration dotted her forehead.

This didn’t feel real anymore, all of a sudden. 

Kip threw her long hair over her shoulders, tactlessly grabbing a fistful and tugging impatiently on her locks as though attempting to rip them off her scalp. She could hardly feel the pain. She could hardly feel  _ anything.  _

Her hands are unsteady as the scissor blades snip past each other, tufts of hair floating onto her tights and slipping onto the floor. An intrusive memory enters Kip’s hazy consciousness, of the times in high school where she’d often be complimented on the sheen of her hair, how demure and beautiful it made her look- how it always accentuated the tender rosiness of her cheeks and the lilting sweetness of her smile-

_ God, it’s all going to hell.  _

_ Why can’t you ever fix anything, dammit? _

Velveteen hair fluttered down like autumn leaves crisp against the breeze, the loss of weight against her shoulders further disorienting Kip. Concerns of her hair appearing uneven were the farthest thing from her mind as she tore through the rest of her locks, consequences be damned; before all of the fight left in her had suddenly diminished completely and her grip on the scissors slackened, clattering audibly onto the floor.

Kip’s legs slid across the floor as she inadvertently slumped against the bathroom walls, the chill of the tiles inviting and pleasing against her skin. Her eyes gazed tiredly into the corner of the room, fingers clenching and unclenching sporadically against the clumps of hair that lay scattered about her like petals of a magnolia, growing deaf to the world. 

She doesn’t know how much time had even ticked on by when there was a soft knocking far across the room, repetitive and grating just enough to tug her away from her stunned state. 

Kip can’t find the energy to turn around, and shifts the position of her legs as confirmation that she had acknowledged whoever was spectating. The footsteps that followed were heavy, but short- it was clear whoever was present was making the courteous attempt not to appear as though they were intruding. She was certain that were it not for her disconnected mental state, that she would find the situation immensely uncomfortable- but Kip lacked any sort of capacity to worry herself with such at the moment.

_ “Uh…” _

The voice that spoke was clumsy, but masculine- and exceedingly familiar to her ears. 

_ The lamplighter.  _

“Are you alright?” They tested, the pink glow of a phosphor jar pouring light into Kip’s peripheral vision. “Do you want me to like… get someone to help, or…”

She almost couldn’t register what he was saying as words, but more a sequence of sounds that were easily blotted out by the chorus of a thousand flies rumbling in her brain. 

_ “I…” _ Kip began, pink lips dry and raw from the week’s worth of apprehensive chewing. 

_ “I don’t feel so good,”  _ she rasped, briefly testing her movements before coming to the conclusion she was far too sluggish to make any actual progress, rising up off the wall only to collapse back against it.

The lamplighter, acutely aware that something about the spectacle was horribly amiss, briskly stepped over to the fallen scientist and knelt beside her scrunched frame, uneasily eyeing the large pair of scissors that lay only a foot away from the girl. 

“What happened?” He spoke softly and reassuringly, casting the occasional glance out in the direction of the doorway in the case someone decided to come parading through. This was going to be awkward to explain to a stranger, and it wasn’t like he readily had excuses on hand.

Kip isn’t even sure herself what had happened. The last she could recall she was standing in front of the sink, about to wash her face when it felt like she’d blacked out. The redhead’s senses had gradually returned in small droves, albeit still overwhelming her with their sharpness.

“I’m late,” She began again, struggling to keep her eyes open, “I need to get back to work, I’m late,” Kip begged, breathing heavily as she began slipping off the wall.

“Woah there,” he tentatively looped an arm around Kip’s shoulders, carefully pulling her close and propping her up against himself. “You’re starting to sound a lot like me,” he laughed somewhat dryly as he supported her weight with relative ease, fondly noting the faint, nearly-obscured scent of maple syrup that wafted off of her. It was pleasant, he thinks. 

“Can you get up?” he asked her, genuinely unsure. “I don’t really… think it’s great to leave you lying around here. A buddy of mine lives right down the hall, I don’t think they’d mind if you hung out there for a bit.” He threw the doorway another look, now unnervingly attentive to the fact he was now cradling a girl who’d been hunched over on the floor of a bathroom.

What the hell was with the pair of scissors? And why all the ha- oh.  
  


Funny how it took him a little to connect the dots. 

Kip wriggled and squirmed beneath his hold, still numb after the entire experience. What fragments she could recollect were all pounding against her head, and this only made her cringe and furl inwards. “I can’t,” she tries to writhe away, but the lamplighter stops her before she rammed her head into the wall. “I need to go back, I have… there’s so much I need to do, I... “ the words died on her lips, as he held her captive with an arm so that she wouldn’t further harm herself. 

“Hey, hey.” he roped her back effortlessly, internally marveling at just how seemingly weightless she felt. The lamplighter gave the scene another once-over, a deep sigh echoing throughout the empty stalls. “Walking up here in the state you’re in is suicide, you might fall off. I would know- heh. You work in the factory, I’ve seen your face. C’mon, I’ll take you until you can get back on your feet.”

Kip shook her head weakly, though the mere act had made the world spin. 

“Eaaaasy now. Guess in a way, this is passing it on,” he mumbled the second part quickly and in a hushed tone, as though he were making a note of something that Kip had found indecipherable. It was irrelevant to her, anyways.

The man in lilac tucked a hand beneath her armpit, drawing Kip upwards with strong arms that easily scooped her in. Kip rested her head awkwardly against what was presumably the crook of his neck, though her head was cushioned by what she could only assume to be a scarf of some sort, the aroma of coffee emanating from his coat. Maybe the scent down the hall came from that friend of his. 

He rose up off the floor very slowly, observing Kip’s leg movements to gauge the severity of how debilitated she may have been. Her legs wobbled uncertainly as the vertigo had swamped her at once and she swayed violently, nearly toppling the lamplighter over with the abruptness of her action. Her now-choppy hair whipped in front of her face, a few strands tickling against her skin. 

“Oi,” he breathed sharply, but held his ground as Kip found herself buried into his coat. He smelled a little… musty, too. It wasn’t unpleasant, just strange. It was better than the more odious, noxious fumes she was used to tampering with back at the laboratories. 

Kip found herself half-dragged out of the room, gradually adjusting herself to the tempo of his footsteps before she gathered the strength in her own legs to mimic them, still pressed cumbersomely against the worker for support.

“I’m Kip,” she found herself mindlessly mumble on the walk back, tottering to and fro from the subtle shaking of the elevator as they entered.

He nodded, having expected a scientist as cute and disarming as her to have a name that was a little more… extravagant? “Just call me Plight,” he responded in a detached tenor, his fingers gripping against the navy blue of her loose-fitting sweater. 

...For a scientist, she was…  _ really  _ cute. 

Damn.

“Why Plight?” she sniffed, only half-conscious at this rate. Everything hurt, her head, her arms, her feet-  _ everything _ . She wondered if during her shift, she’d nod off and plop over sideways on the conveyor belt, drifting over to the metal compressor where she’d be crushed and die instantly-

“The younger kids at the library couldn’t pronounce ‘lamplighter’ quite right. It’s a nickname, but I don’t mind it, I guess.” he glanced down at her, frowning at the dark circles around her eyes. Poor girl.

“I know you eggheads got an important job to do,” he grunted, tilting his head back slightly, “But I can tell that they’re working your asses down to the bone more than they are the rest of us. I had kind of a… similar issue, a while back. Friend got me out of it, but…” 

Kip hummed softly in affirmation, the back of her eyelids stinging. Plight chuckled lightly at her sleepy behavior. 

“You haven’t slept in a while, huh? It takes one to know one,” he sighed heavily, wondering if this is how it must have felt to shoulder another person- there was always more to the story that one never really bargains for. 

Maybe it was karma. 

_ “And let me tell you, babe- you’ve got it bad.” _

Kip drearily recalled before the world faded to black the excited trills of the vendors down on the Refuge boardwalk, the disembodied and frantic murmurings of her coworkers chirping back and forth, and the distant sound of Silver’s voice breaking the day she had been cast away to the Barrens. 

  
Kip never did get any letters back from her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE FIC ISN'T DEAD, I SWEAR.
> 
> I suppose my motivation has been slacking, since my other fic seems to be getting more attention and support. Please don't misunderstand, I love the both dearly and they're fun to write! It's just difficult for me sometimes. ;;;; I have too many ideas for the fic, and I understand that people tend to lose patience with slow burn fics. I suppose my lousy writing skills aren't doing things much justice, but I do aim to finish every story I start!
> 
> Disassociation is tricky to write- especially since it differs from person to person! My own personal experiences with it are different than the ones others had whom I asked for advice, so I used sort of... both!!
> 
> Also never stay up 3 consecutive nights in a row, as someone who has personally done such you will fee like dying and also see into the eyes of God and it's terrible. 0/10 would not recommend ever
> 
> tfw accidentally wrote slight kiplight, what the fuck


End file.
